Wenn
Being pregnant isn't as easy and tender as I thought it would be. At least not while, on top of the hormones, my brain is being eaten alive by guilt for not telling Shawn yet, distrust and anger because I know these two girls sitting quietly in my car are hiding something important, and anxiety because I don't understand how, at 22, I'm supposed to be capable of being a mother. And the father? A rising international star, always on tour and at concerts—which I love and support—but in this situation… it's driving me crazy.
I can't take it anymore. I swerve the car sharply to the side, earning honks and insults from several drivers. I park. The conversation happens now.
I turn and look at them. Vanessa beside me, Melissa in the back. Honestly, they don't look terrified by my sudden maneuver. More like they're having a silent conversation with their eyes while I analyze the silence. Very productive.
Vanessa runs a hand through her hair and looks at me with a kind of resolve I hadn't seen in her before.
"Wenn, before we go on… I just want you to know that what I've kept from my past was never because I didn't trust you. On the contrary, now I feel like I can trust you—and that gives me peace."
Her words calm me, but I know something big is coming.
Melissa adds:
"It wouldn't be fair for you to carry this, but we don't want secrets. We ask you to trust us—and to keep it just between us."
With a trembling voice, I ask:
"So, the lie you mentioned in Spanish earlier… what was it about? Because, girls, I understood what you were saying."
Melissa leans forward from the back seat, almost touching my shoulder.
"We didn't realize you understood everything, Wenn. That was a slip. But if you really want to know, we'll tell you the whole truth."
Vanessa exchanges a serious look with Mel, and together, almost in sync, they warn me:
"But what we're about to tell you… can't leave this car. If the guys find out and say something, everyone could be in danger."
They pause, letting the weight of their words settle.
"Do you trust us?"
The silence is heavy, but I know I can't run.
"Yes, I trust you. Say it—I'm listening," I reply honestly. "If you trust me, I accept the risk. I'd rather have the truth than live with doubts."
Vanessa and Melissa look at each other, as if giving permission. In the end, it's Vanessa who begins. She takes a breath, like she's about to jump off a cliff.
"We… didn't meet when we were nine. That was made up. We had no other plan. In reality, Melissa and I have known each other since we were babies."
Mel nods, slicing through the air with her confession:
"Our families are connected—and not for good reasons… they're involved in dark things, Wenn. Mafia, organized crime. We've never done anything ourselves, but we grew up surrounded by it."
I swallow hard, feeling the weight of what I've just heard.
Melissa continues, calmer than I expected:
"My role has always been to be the clean image of the family. I was trained to speak well, behave perfectly, be the public face. Always calm, always smiling. My twin brother, Matías, is the one who'll take over the business. I'm just the façade."
I sit there processing, hands gripping the steering wheel, listening to Vanessa speak in a low voice, tapping her fingers on her leg.
"I lost my parents when I was two, and my grandmother raised me until I was thirteen in a safe house watched over by the family. When she died, I ended up with my uncle—the head of the family. I was at his mercy, and everything got worse. Life there… was like being watched every minute. He only needed me for one thing, and they made sure I knew it—however they could."
"And why did you come all the way here, Vane?"
"Because my destiny—what they wanted for me—was to be the perfect wife of an Italian mafioso's son. I couldn't allow it. That's why I escaped Colombia, though with methods that were… questionable," she says, with a mix of relief and pain in her eyes.
The girls exchange a knowing glance. I want to ask more, but decide to wait.
I feel like crying for everything they've been through, but I just reach out my hand.
"I won't judge you. And your secrets are safe with me. I promise."
The girls look at me, grateful.
Melissa smiles, relieved.
"Ask us anything, Wenn. No more masks."
Curiosity and fear rise together.
"So, since babies? You never had other friends? And how did you escape Colombia if you were always being watched?"
Melissa laughs, a little bitter:
"I've had tons of acquaintances, but real friends… only Vanessa. And now you and the guys are making your way into my heart. The rest are part of the show."
Vanessa nods, shyly:
"Just Melissa and a few cousins I don't really get along with. That's it. And about my escape… well. The plan was Melissa's."
Memory – Vanessa
That night—the day of my freedom—is trapped in the rearview mirror of my memory. I got into the taxi, backpack in hand, heart pounding against my ribs. I convinced my uncle to give me a few final days with Melissa, pretending obedience while crumbling inside. For months, under the shadow of watchful eyes, Melissa and I had been packing the essentials little by little: documents, clothes, memories. Everything ready to flee without looking back.
The taxi moved forward, but we weren't alone. In the mirror, I saw the black car of my uncle's men glued to our route, like vultures circling. I pulled out the money I'd saved and handed it to the driver, trembling:
"Take me to the restaurant 'La Esquina Secreta' and wait—no matter how long it takes."
I entered the bathroom pretending calm, while Melissa sent my other bags to the airport via Uber, moving invisible pieces on the board.
The next move was critical. Melissa had paid a friend to wear a wig identical to my curly hair and get into the taxi, pretending to be me. The driver took off with the fake Vanessa, and my uncle's men took the bait. I exited through another door, stole a car, and ditched it a few blocks away. Then I took another taxi straight to the airport. I bought the first available ticket: destination United States, with a layover before Australia.
Melissa's friend—part of her professional track team and agile as a ghost—got out of the car in traffic, removed the wig once she'd lost the pursuers, and texted that the plan had worked. The driver faked outrage when the fake "Vanessa" escaped without paying. Meanwhile, my uncle began a city-wide hunt, completely unaware that I was already far away, running toward my new life.
End of memory
I stay quiet for a moment, absorbing what they've just told me. These girls have lived lives so different from ours. Surrounded by danger and families that feel more like enemies—controlling their every move. While we grew up with love and acceptance.
I want to give them all the warmth I can. I don't say much about their action-movie escape.
"You two could be spies if you wanted, you know?" I say, half joking.
The girls just shake their heads while smiling. And then I decide to ask about their love lives. I don't know why.
Melissa shrugs, a bit resigned.
"I've had boyfriends, yeah—but all superficial. No one's ever really known me. Vanessa… has never had a partner. Not even a kiss."
Vanessa blushes, covers her face, and Mel nudges her playfully. We laugh—finally—as if the weight lifts a little.
Suddenly, Vanessa notices the time.
We're super late—she offers to take the wheel.
"Let me drive. I promise you won't regret it."
I hand her the keys with a raised eyebrow, half curious, half skeptical.
"Are you sure you know how to drive?" I ask, switching seats.
Vanessa smiles like she's just won a silent bet.
"Wenn, please. One of my hidden talents is driving like I was born on a racetrack. Trust me."
Melissa sighs from the back seat, fastening her seatbelt like she's bracing for a rollercoaster.
"Let the show begin."
In minutes, we're flying between cars. Literally. Vanessa takes the curves like they're part of a choreography. Yellow lights are suggestions, not warnings. And in less than a breath, she proves that among all her secrets, driving like a pro was one of them.
"Are you sure you weren't a getaway driver in another life?" I ask, half joking, half gripping the seat.
"Only the getaway part," she replies, winking.
Melissa laughs—truly relaxed for the first time in hours.
"This is like watching the Colombian version of 'Fast and Furious.'"
Vanessa shrugs, proud.
"Don't underestimate me. When it's time to run, you run with style."
The car speeds forward, and for the first time in days, I feel like nothing can break us. Protected by the trust of these two girls who now feel like chosen family. The air fills with a different energy. It's not just adrenaline. It's freedom. It's complicity. It's the kind of bond you don't explain—you just live.
And as the landscape blurs past the windows, I think maybe I can do this. Maybe being a mom won't be easy, but I won't be alone. Because now I know that even if the map of our lives is full of unexpected curves, there are plans that break the map… and take us exactly where we're meant to be.